Her home was earthy. Cozy. Quiet. Different, yet felt like home. The red-brown tint of the mud-based paint was warm and inviting, hiding sheep wool insulation I remembered stuffing between the studs, stilted and sitting, straddling the gigantic bag of fluff in all it’s natural glory, hands shining, soaked in unfiltered lanolin. The ground beneath me was a mosaic of recycled pieces of broken counter-tops, a puzzle I had also helped to fit together and mortar in between.
Now, I sat at her feet, her home nearly finished, and a group of young ladies – eating homemade guacamole and tortilla chips, settling down for Bible study. I felt so at ease, yet also out of place. These were not ladies I usually associated with, and, being the introvert that I am, conversation and small talk are not always things of very much ease for me. Yet they were all so kind, and open, like the large, sun-filled windows, fresh air wafting through both the home and the guests within. Friendships. Camaraderie. Fellowship.
As she welcomed us into her home, and ushered us into our time of study, she asked us all a question; “Find something in the house that you identify with – something that is you, that you can use to tell us about yourself”. Well! What an odd icebreaker! I’d never been asked to do that before! My eyes dashed about the room, introverted self beginning to panic as my turn in the circle approached. The table? A chair? A color? A smell? Light? Dark? The stairs? The floor? No, no… maybe the art on the walls? A bowl? A basket? Shoot, the toilet!!??
It was hard to hear my peers sharing their items, introductions, and the heart behind their words, what with the sound of my own heart thudding within my chest.
Breath. Listen. Reflect. Notice.
Breath.
Ah… there was the breeze, drifting daintily through the open window, curtains softly dancing to and fro with delight. But they were not exactly curtains, more like ribbons; narrow, roughly ripped strips of colorful cotton, twirling and floating about together like laundry on the line in summertime, crisp and clean. This rainbow had a function, though, providing privacy and shade from the brilliant sun gleaming in. They were so pretty. They were so practical. Like the vintage, cotton ribbon that tied back the long, brown braid of my own hair.
Pretty & practical. Kinda’ like me.
I had found my object for the meeting introductions, yet the image lingered after we left, and forever since.
Cotton ribbons; pretty & practical.
I am not the kind of girl who wears make-up and high-heels. My clothes are often torn and stained, my skin blemished, my hair greasy and tangled. My feet are too big, my arms are too big, my nose is too big, my legs are too big, and yet I am short. I’m an awkward mix; INFJ, if that holds any significance in your mind, a Christian who’s primary “gifting” tends to be “helping”, and who’s least “gifting”, according to the tests (and seemingly accurate assessments when compared to my daily life!) is “prayer” and “faith”, loving people but hating crowds, being alone but not being lonely. And clumsy! So clumsy, my sweet, lovely grandmother nicknamed me “grace” once… after stubbing my toe on a folding chair, which was folded up, leaning against the wall, and completely out of the way!
Yet I’ve always felt a kind of vintage beauty about myself; the kind you read about in fairy tales, where the heroine is witty, clever, with wild hair and tattered attire, strong in mind, kind in heart. I knew by modern standards, I didn’t necessarily fit the bill for “beauty”, but in my own way, a way bestowed upon me by God, I was. I’ve always felt comfortable in my own style, quirky as it may be, believing that in God’s eyes, made in His image, I was beautiful and unique, and that was good enough for me.
I am also a practical, old-soul kind of person. I like theology, but I like my theology to be practical. I like Bible studies, and I like them to be practical as well. I love learning, and best of all when it is, can you guess? Practical! You got it! I couldn’t seem to grasp slope until I had physics – practical application, you see? My brain thrives on charts and lists, so much so I did better in Greek class than English! (If you know…) I’ve always enjoyed the feel of dirt beneath my short-cut fingernails, far better than nail polish! And I’m not quick to shy away from hands-on tasks – not usually. I fancy myself a bit of a Macgyver, jerry-rigging my way through life.
Pretty & practical.
Like cotton ribbons.
The image of ribbons has stuck with me all these years, and it still feels like it fits. I think it always will. It’s how I see the world; looking for the beauty, looking for the “what to do”. When I see a sunset, I see the glory and creativity of God painted across the sky, taking my breath and filling my heart with wonder. And I see the mechanics of the universe, the rhythms of the spheres, that cause the earth to orbit the sun, the sun to hold the earth in it’s wake, just so, allowing life and clouds and rain and seasons. Beauty, and functionality. Creativity, and purpose.
Pretty, and practice.
I’ve often wondered if others share the view of the world that I have. And yet, when I think back, if I’m not mistaken, every young woman in that room choose a different object to introduce themselves with – to identify with. We are all so very different, and we all see the world, and God, from a different vantage point; we need one another to see the world and faith more completely.
Isn’t it beautiful?
Isn’t it practical?
I’m excited to share my vantage point with you. Thank you for joining me in the journey.
And just out of curiosity… look around your home, coffee shop, office, or wherever you find yourself lingering as you read this post. What catches your eye? What object would you use to describe yourself, and why? I would love to know what you come up with!
Grace and Peace,
-SF
Cotton Ribbons 